


To Sing a Song of the Soul

by Squeakerblue



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Background Poly, Beta by Locktea, Bingo, Found Family, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakerblue/pseuds/Squeakerblue
Summary: Jaskier refuses to see his little family hurt. He sets out to fix it, no matter the costWritten for the first BiKM BingoPrompt: Five
Relationships: Aiden/Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert/Vesemir
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63
Collections: Bard Bingo- BIKM Bingo





	To Sing a Song of the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the amazing locktea

Jaskier stared into the fire as the Witchers around him settled to sleep. It was deep into winter, and so everyone slept piled together in the main room, sharing body heat and comfort before the roaring flames of the big fireplace. In his hands he held five Witcher medallions, four Wolf and one Cat. 

  
Getting them off the sleeping Witchers had been difficult, but he’d managed, soothing and petting them back to sleep. It was a full moon tonight, the last one of the year, and he could feel the pull in his bones. It was now or he’d have to wait another full year, and possibly miss his chance, with the uncertainty of a Witcher’s life.

He stood, making his way out the door on silent feet, bare in the snow. The cold didn’t bother him that much, despite his complaints.

The walk down to the lake wasn’t far, and he reached it just before the moon reached its zenith. He stripped his clothing off, leaving it in a heap on the shore and waded in, feeling the icy water surround him. 

The water reached his hips and he let the change come, scales rippling up his sides. By the time he was chest deep, he could feel his legs merging and dove forward and down, letting the water embrace him. He’d never shown Geralt his triton side, even knowing the Witcher was unlikely to harm him. He was only half-triton, but long ago lessons taught tended to stick.

Jaskier rose to the surface, feeling his fins swirling the water as he gathered his magic. The moon was only moments away from the highest point. He set each medallion in the water, his magic holding them on the surface. He carefully calculated the moon's reflection in the dark water of the lake and adjusted the medallions around him. 

The moon reached her zenith and Jaskier lifted his face to her’s, closed his eyes and  _ Sang _ . 

The language was old, older even than the Elder Speech, more about emotion than the words themselves. He was appealing directly to the Moon, to Magic, and Fate herself. 

Around him, the water swirled, lifting him and the medallions up in a vortex of water. They bobbled gently, encased in a smooth bubble of water, as Jaskier put everything he had into his Song. 

He begged the Moon, Magic and Fate. The song had no translation, but he had been asked to explain it, he would have said. “Protect my beloveds, keep them safe from harm, from hunger and pain, from those who would do them ill, and bring them back to each other. Let each be the others home and hearth, their comfort in the cold and their light in the dark. Let them share their burdens and their joys. Allow them each other, for as long as you grant, and suffer them no slight, no grief or loss of one long gone before another. I offer freely of all I am. Take what you wish.”

It was a dangerous ritual, costly and fickle. Any of the three Great Powers could take his magic, his voice, his life, or anything else they wished in payment. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t stand by and let his five beloved Witchers fall one by one to time and hatred and ignorance. 

Around him, the silvery water swirled and danced, each medallion whirling around and dancing upon the water. He didn’t dare open his eyes, concentrating on his entreaty. Gradually a new sound joined his Song, a lovely tinkling and he risked a peek. A mote of silver light danced to his singing, and was joined by a blue one, and then a red. The Moon, Magic and Fate. His heart soared, the Great Powers had answered him, now he could only hope they would be amenable.

He didn’t know how long he Sang, time had no meaning to him. The motes danced and wove with each note he Sang, then spun together tightly, as if conferring with each other before stilling. Jaskier didn’t stop his Song, offering up everything he was, had been or would be for the safety of his beloved family.

The motes of light split apart, sending shafts of light into the sky, before curling in and each of the five shafts of light from each mote vanishing into each medallion. The medallions glowed brightly before dimming and shimmering slightly, seeming even more silver than they had been. 

The three motes drifted closer to him, and Jaskier could feel his strength beginning to fail, he was not as magical as a full triton, but that didn’t matter to him. He forced himself to keep Singing.

The three motes of light pressed against his skin, one to each collarbone, the red and the blue, and the silver right over the center of his chest. It  _ burned _ but he didn’t let his voice waver or fail. It was surely a test and he couldn’t fail. The motes pulled back, and spun swiftly around each other before shooting high into the sky and bursting in a bright flash.

Jaskier ended the Song, and used the last remnants of his magic to lower himself and the medallions back to the surface of the lake before he snagged them and exhaustedly flipped his tail, sending himself towards shore. He felt the grind of sand against his chest but he didn’t have the strength to pull himself further. He tried to flip his tail, to get himself close enough to put the medallions with his clothing. 

Jaskier managed to get his unburdened arm under himself to drag himself further when the grind of a boot on gravel caught his attention and he snapped his head to side, seeing five sets of boots standing at the waterline. 

He slowly raised his eyes to the glowing gold eyes of his Witchers. He couldn’t even summon the strength to speak as the world went black and he collapsed into the water and sand, unconscious. 

* * *

Jaskier woke to the crackle of the fire and a forest’s worth of furs piled atop him. It took a moment to realize he was alive, and not restrained, just trapped beneath a veritable mountain of fur and blankets. He must have made some sound because the bed was suddenly surrounded by his five beloved Witchers.    
  
Jaskier swallowed hard, bracing himself for the accusations, the hatred, the stroke of a sword. Instead, he found the blankets stripped off of him and replaced with Witchers. They were wearing their medallions, the ones he’d Sung for, he could see the bright silvery sheen across the metal.

Vesemir spoke first. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Jaskier opened his mouth to speak and croaked and Eskel swiftly helped him lean up a bit and sip from a mug that had clearly been kept waiting. Honey in warm water, it felt so good. He drank half the mug before clearing his throat again, “Which?” He snorted, “That I’m part-triton? Or that I have magic… or I did… I don’t know anymore.”

Geralt chuckled and touched his chest, provoking a small hiss of pain and Jaskier glanced down to see three brands where the motes of light had touched him.  _ Freely offered. Freely received. Freely given. _

Aiden laid a hand on his leg, and Lambert echoed him as Aiden spoke, “We saw it all, you’re not as subtle a thief as you think you are. That wasn’t Elder Speech was it?”   
  


“No. It’s older than that, We… We just call it the Song of the Soul.”

  
  
Eskel tapped his medallion, “We checked them over but couldn’t find anything, what did you do? We’re not angry, just curious.”

  
  
Jaskier swallowed and took a deep breath, “I asked for you to be safe. To be together and always find each other. To not suffer.”

  
  
The Witchers sucked in a breath and Vesemir spoke, so softly it was a bare whisper, “What did you offer?”

  
  
Jaskier felt tears form in his eyes. “Everything. All I am, all I was or will be.” 

There was a moment of silence and Jaskier feared the worst, then he was buried under five Witchers clinging tight to him. 

Vesemir brushed his skin just under the brands. “You asked without demand, and offered everything with no expectation of acceptance, and asked for nothing for yourself. I think they liked you.”

The rest of the night was spent buried under his Witchers, each one holding part of him tight, like they were afraid he’d vanish without warning, but Jaskier didn’t mind. He was right where he had always wanted to be, with his beloveds.


End file.
